Life In Taroudannt

Ive been living here in Taroudannt for nearly 5 months now, and still havent found the apostrophe on a Moroccan keyboard. I think I noticed apostrophes in Sams earlier posts, so they must exist, but Ive given up the search. Youll have to do without, Im afraid.

So you want to know what Ive been up to all this time? Work wise, up until three weeks ago, I had been helping out in the Baby Unit of the orphanage, Lalla Amina, full time. Which mostly involved changing dirty nappies, bathing, clothing, feeding and (importantly) playing with the babies, who at the moment range from 5 weeks old to 3 years. I say -at the moment-, because babies are regularly coming and going. Numbers are actually diminishing. Lots of children are being adopted, even the boys, which is a very good thing. But of course bonds are formed, and its difficult to say good bye, even when its clear they are going to a loving home. The youngest child, Afaf, is 5 weeks old now. Shes grown before my eyes from a purple, wrinkly new-born into a chubby, pretty baby (with a good pair of lungs). Working in the Baby Unit is certainly good training for future family life...

Ive recently started a new placement at the Mansour Debit school, taking over from Hannah and assisting with a deaf/mute class. Lessons only last half a day, alternating mornings and afternoons, so now I spend half days at the orphanage and half days with the deaf class. It is a welcome change. Full days at the orphange were becoming a bit too routine, and although I have befriended many of the women who work there, I felt like I needed more variety. Like the prospect of accompanying the deaf class on a trip to Agadir and its beach! Many of the children come from modest backgrounds, and a trip to the beach is a very rare and exciting event. So much so that Habiba, their teacher, feels that it will be necessary to enlist the help of other volunteers to keep the rowdy bunch under control. Because they are unable to express themselves verbally, deaf children rely on actions to get their points across, and are often boisterous, even violent at times, to vent their frustration at not being understood. Retaliation in Moroccan culture is also positively encouraged. So if one boy hits his neighbour because he stole a stick of chalk, the neighbour will hit back harder.

Before I came to Morocco, I really had little idea of the age groups Id be working with, or their capability, but I brought along a few toys and games for the children all the same. Which have proved to be a great success. Have you heard of Scoubi Doos? They were a big craze among kids last year; I should know, I worked in a toy shop. They are long, coloured, plasic strings that you can weave together to make neclaces, braclets, decorations, figurines, anything you like! Last week I introduced them to the class and earned myself lots of brownie points. The boys took to them more than the girls, which was a surprise, considering they are pink and sparkly! The oldest boys are 13 or so, just on the brink of becoming self conscious.

Im afraid it is time for me to sign off. Ive just received a call from Sammy T saying my lunch is ready, so home I must go. This afternoon there is a bike ride planned with Sam and a couple of Belgian friends, Lies and Bernard. And tomorrow I might play tourist for a day and go swimming at the Jnan Soussia pool, catch some rays... But I promise this will not be the first and last piece of evidence youll read of my existence in Taroudannt.

Well, it's been a little while since my last entry, and, as is the way, time has literally flown since I began working. I mentioned in the last blog that the work had been, so far, a mixture of challenge and reward, and so it has been. It's the first time in my life that I've spent so much time in the company of children. Let me tell you- they are demanding! If I'm not doing a little dance to keep their attention at the front of the class, I'm answering their questions at their computer stations, or telling them not to turn off the PCs simply by just plonking their self-satisfied finger on the power button! It is good fun, however. Becoming a teacher has taken me back to my days of class, and the sniggers and "chat" we gave our esteemed teachers. Ah, the shoe is on the other foot now.

Apart from showing the children how to create illustrated texts in all kinds of fonts, colours and WordArt on their home town, Taroudannt (most of which inevitably start with a proud "Taroudannt est une belle ville..."), I've begun dabbling in teaching them to make graphs on Excel. Excel, though, can be a bit boring, so I normally offset it with a period of game-playing to give me a few plus points in the personality stakes. It's actually been quite nice becoming a known figure around school, too, and little smiling children often come to shake my hand, which is heartwarming. If only they knew what I was really like, ha ha. Only joking mum, if you are reading this.

I've been very successful so far in interspersing work with little weekend breaks, and Taroudannt is blessed in being within reach of a number of very picturesque sea and mountain destinations, Ouarzazate, Tefreout and the like. Last weekend I popped off to Agadir for the first time. It is not like Taroudannt. It is a sprawling beach holiday resort, populated by those two great beach-peoples (among the many locals), the Germans and Brits Abroad. Escaping to Agadir to make use of the beach has its merits, however, and I had a really good time, apart from the sunburn I contracted. To be honest, it felt like a total break from the cultural discovery which has constituted the rest of my time in Morocco. You really have to come out here to get a real grasp of how different the Arabic mindset is, rooted as it is in Islam, and it's been fascinating discussing this with Moroccan people.

This weekend, Christina and I are heading off with many of the women who work at the orphanage to Taghazout, another beachy place. I'm looking forward to it- rendez-vous in the next blog to tell you all.

Time to work it is. Having completed my induction course two weeks ago, I've since made the transtion to fully-flegded IT teacher at school and activities organiser at the orphanage. It's been quite a hard transition- I was enjoying pottering around town and having a fair amount of free time to make my cultural discoveries about Morocco and Taroudannt- but one which has already had its rewards. Seeing the kids smiling and thanking me as they leave class (if I get them to leave on time) has been one. Let's hope that doesn't change, although the test I've got planned for them next week isn't likely to be a winner for me in the popularity stakes. Still, little do they know, I have their best interests in mind (and I fancy putting my feet up for thirty minutes)!

There are 12 eleven to twelve yuear old children in each of the 4 IT classes I take in a day's work, which, luckily, is a very manageable number. In addition, perhaps because Moroccan teaching is traditionally quite authoritative, they are largely very well-behaved, even though I can never be quite sure what little Abdullah is saying when he whispers in dialect to Hamza, while pointing gigglingly at me! The lessons have already been of great benefit to my French and pidgin Maghrebi Arabic, since they are held in these languages- I haven't found more than a handful of Taroudannt townsfolk (Roudanais for short) proficient in English so far. Any holes in communication are generally overcome by my dramatic gesticulations at the front of the class, at which point the expressions on the children generally turn from blankness to utter hilarity! Of course, I don't mind, because the children are laughing with me...aren't they?

The orphanage has been a challenge and a reward too, but in a different way to teaching. Having been assigned to the disabled unit, my job is to try and bring some fun and diversity into the children's lives. The situation there is on the shocking side, in that Morocco, like much of the world, has only just really begun to turn its hand to the question of catering for disabled children with any kind of systematic approach. Many of the workers at the orphanage lack formal training in handling, let alone educating, disabled children. There are six children in the house, each of a different age, with different problems- though none have received a psychological diagnosis. Volunteer help is desperately needed! Alongside two women-helpers, I have been involved in playing basic activities with the children, doing some drawings, taking them for walks and so forth. When connections are made, the work is very fulfilling. It is also quite tiring, however, and luckily, most of them enjoy listening to Rai music on the cassette player that AfricaTrust donated to the house, which keeps everyone occupied long enough for me to recuperate and start a new activity!

The week recommences Monday, and so I'll be in touch soon to tell all how it goes!

A photo from back in March, when Grace, Hannah and Nicola were still in Taroudannt.